I'm Denmark! Just Not from Around Here
by SiZodiac
Summary: SatW!Denmark and Hetalia!Matthias switched places, and now the already-frail-sanity of everyone from both worlds are being further threatened as things gradually spiral out of control. genre change.
1. Morning

_Disclaimer: In no way do I own Scandinavia and the World or Hetalia-Axis Powers._

_Summary: The Denmarks from Scandinavia and the World and Hetalia switched places.  
>Female counterparts or the lack thereof? An overly cheerful Norwegian or one that's cold-hearted and mildly violent with invisible spiritual friends? A happy stoned Dutchman or a unsmiling bunny-loving one? And a Swede that seemed to be even more agitatedfrightening than usual?  
>So could Matthias find a way back with his sanity intact? And could Denmark survive in the unfamiliar and much less than friendly parallel world?<em>

_For those new to the Hetalia fandom, below are some human names used by Hetalia nations:_

_Matthias Køhler (non-canon)– Denmark  
><em>_Lars van Rijn (non-canon)– the Netherlands  
><em>_Gilbert Beilschmidt– Prussia  
><em>__Berwald Oxenstjärna– Sweden__

* * *

><p><strong>I'm Denmark! Just Not from Around Here<strong>

.

Universe: Scandinavia and the World

[Hetalia Denmark's POV]

Matthias Køhler jolted awake with a vague recollection of a dream with beers and familiar foreign lands and a seriously pissed Norway that he couldn't quite remember and falling–couldn't forget about the falling part!–but was immediately hit with a killer headache resulted from a hangover. So okay, maybe the beer part wasn't a dream?

He groaned, dragging himself out of bed and sauntered towards where he remember his wardrobe to be to find something not-too-dirty to cover his Danish flag imprinted boxer and bare torso...and found a _whole_ wardrobe of Danish flag waving at him.

What the–?

Matthias blinked, thinking the liquor he consumed last night must've done some damage to his better judgment, but the flags were still there after he stared at them stupidly for five minutes. Slowly he picked up a piece of cloth, then realizing it was in fact a shirt–two size too small–made to look like his flag.

It all seemed like some sort of joke. Only that he couldn't think of anyone who had enough free time to play such a prank on him as to rearrange his wardrobe...unless it was Prussia who was no longer an actual country, but as far as Matthias know, the ex-nation seemed to be more interested in bothering the aristocrat farther south.

Odd.

He put on the patriotic (but ridiculous) shirt and a pair of jeans that only reached about a foot above his ankle (not to mention way too tight at some places) before fiddling with his cell phone to sent Gilbert Beilschmidt a questioning text...only to receive an auto-message saying that the phone was out of service*.

Now, Matthias was really confused.

But apparently the peculiarity of the day wasn't over yet because when he trailed into the kitchen in those embarrassing flag-ish outfit, he saw a dude with sandy blond hair–somehow also wearing a hilarious shirt that emblazoned the Danish flag–sitting sleepily at the table sipping a bottle beer.

A _cute_ blond dude* (which was a plus). Matthias noted to himself. And a Dane. He added, since he was the nation of Denmark, he could tell his people at a glance.

But strangely, the longer Matthias looked at the other male the less sure he was of the other's identity. Because rather than the infantine feeling of when interacting with his own, it felt more like the intimate tingling he often got when Norway and–should he admit it–Sweden were around only...even more intimate.

Was it possible that he was another nation?

Matthias wondered, but inwardly shook his head. Because he was sure that man was a Dane and unlike Italy, there should only be one Denmark–and that was him!

So who was that guy?

And since it's not like he could figure it out by brooding over it, he did the only thing any intelligent person would do–by plastering on a winning smile before leaning over the other man and ask.

"Godmorgen. Fancy telling me who you are?"

The man blinked his bleary blue eyes a few times before it widen with shock, the beer bottle fell from his hands and land on the floor with a loud clang!, splattering liquid everywhere.

Matthias didn't have time to figure out what had shocked–scared?–the other so, before a high-pitch ear-splitting scream burst from the other's throat.

.

.

Universe: Hetalia

[SatW Denmark's POV]

Denmark, however, had a relatively peaceful morning since he didn't wake up until near noon (though it was partially due to the absence of Norway's usual morning phone calls). In his sleepy state just upon waking, he found nothing weird or wrong in his familiar room of his familiar house in his familiar capital.

Of course the drowsy Dane completely missed the huge axe–with a small silver crown dangling off the handle tip and a gleaming polished edge that could slice flesh and bone like butter–that was just lying innocently on the other side of the bed where it certainly didn't exist in his prior home.

Mumbling to himself, Denmark pulled himself out of bed and across the room to his wardrobe (while somehow managing to not fall asleep again in the process) to get his clothes. But it wasn't until he was almost fully dressed–in a too large black turtleneck sweater and faded jeans that's dragging to the floor–that he noticed something was seriously off.

His Danish-flag shirts were _all_ gone! And was, moreover, replaced by degrading human fashion colors that were _not_ red and white!

There was only one nation in the whole world that held so deep a grudge against him who would go all this way just to humiliate him. And as it was the case, it wasn't much wonder that Denmark's thoughts immediately went his fellow Scandinavian, Sweden.

If it was the way he wanted to play, so be it!

But after finding his cell phone on the desk the Dane ultimately decided against notifying Norway, knowing his cheerful taller friend would just stop whatever ravage prank he had in mind for the Swede. So instead Denmark sent a text message to his partner-in-crime the Netherlands (all the while pulling at the jeans that were hanging off his hips), telling the Dutchman how Sweden had stolen all his clothes and needing help.

Having that taken care of, Denmark meandered, with much difficulty dressed in those unfit jeans, into the kitchen for a late breakfast and maybe a bottle of beer to go with it–

Only to come face to face with the most horrifying beast he had have the misfortune to encounter in the very recent years.

So of course Denmark screamed.

.

[Hetalia Netherlands' POV]

An hour and a hasty boarded direct flight later found a very confused Dutchman walking the streets of Copenhagen, a small duffle bag with shirts and trousers promptly thrown in over one shoulder.

Maybe it was one of those days when you got up in the morning and you just _knew_ the day started wrong. Lars van Rijn wasn't sure, but was beginning to have this queasy feeling.

Because the message he received from Denmark could only be describe as weird.

It had said Sweden stole all of Denmark's clothes. Sweden as in _Berwald Oxenstjärna_, the stoic perpetual frowner that didn't seem capable of any form of joke? The whole thing was so absurd it wasn't even funny, unless it was some sort of Nordic gag the Dutchman couldn't understand. On the other hand though, if somebody told him Matthias was the one who pulled such a prank, he'd deem it believable. But _not_ the Swede.

Moreover even if by some otherworldly miracle causing the Swede to _really_ lost his mind for a day, why would Matthias asked _him_ for help?

Lars knew the Dane of course, but that didn't mean they were that close.

And wasn't Finland more fit for the job?

The nation of the Netherlands frowned. Since he saw no reason to meddle with others' affairs, he'll just drop the clothes and be on his way and leave the Nordics to sort things out themselves. So if truth be told, Lars hadn't really expected his day to turn any weirder.

But he was confirmed wrong the moment he opened the front door of the Dane's house (many countries didn't bother with locking their front doors since they trusted their people, but of course still with a few exceptions like the Netherlands himself since he had a house in Amsterdam) and found a blond-haired stranger dressed in Matthias' too-large clothes that fainted in front of a moose specimen*.

.

.

* * *

><p><em>* I didn't think Prussia still exist in the SatW universe (though one could argue since Nazi Germany seemed does still exist, weird huh?).<em>

_* Sister Denmark if you were wondering. I seemed to remember _Humon _saying that if Sister Denmark wore a baggy shirt people would think she's a guy with long hair. And since in my headcanon all Hetalia characters were to some extent bi,__ Matthias would have no problem hitting on her even though he thought her to be a man._

_* The famous moose that swam from Sweden. I didn't think __Matthias would be freaking out over it, but rather made the largest wild animal that dare trespass his home into a decoration._


	2. Midday

_Disclaimer: In no way do I own Scandinavia and the World or Hetalia-Axis Powers._

_Below are some human names used by nations from Hetalia:_

_Matthias Køhler (non-canon)– Denmark  
><em>_Lars van Rijn (non-canon)– the Netherlands  
><em>_Ivan Braginski– Russia_

_._

_And it would be much appreciated if anyone can tell me what are the more commonly used Hetalia fandom names for Norway and Iceland (or I'll be forced to cut their screen time)._

* * *

><p><strong>I'm Denmark! Just Not from Around Here<strong>

.

Universe: Scandinavia and the World

[Hetalia Denmark's POV]

"Who the hell are you!"

Chair and table overturned, the pretty blond leaped back to a corner in fright all the while pointing an accusing finger. "And why are you wearing Denmark's clothes!"

Matthias blinked. "I'm Denmark (and these ain't my clothes)."

"The heck you are! You think I wouldn't recognize my own brother?"

"You think I wouldn't recognize mine (if I still have one)?" Matthias growled, a painful feeling of nostalgia causing him to loose temper. "Who are _you_ anyway?"

"I'm Denmark!"

"..."

Now Matthias felt like banging his head on the wall. "_I_ am Denmark, who are _you_?"

"That's what I'm asking you!"

"But we can't _both_ be Denmarks! There is only one Denmark on the world map, and I'm pretty sure that's me!"

"What kind of nonsense is this? I'm Denmark! Denmark's sister!"

Matthias was about to protest but then he frowned, suddenly realizing that there were so many things wrong with that sentence he didn't know where to begin the correction.

"What?"

"You're a–"

Matthias began, but a sudden knock sounded from the doorway interrupted the taller Dane's question and successfully drew the two occupants' attention away from each other. Then a muffled voice called out cheerfully from the other side of the door.

"Denmark, it's Norway! And–"

Upon hearing his (wishful) friend's name, Matthias–without waiting for the other to finish talking–crash out the front door, a foolish smile on his face. "Norge, I know you still love me!" He shouted, but his excitement was promptly cut short and his voice hitched on the last syllable. (No, he did NOT yelp. Men don't yelp even when surprised and landed heavily on the butt.)

Burly stature. Scarf.

Because for a moment, Matthias thought it was Ivan Braginski who he accidentally collided into (and THAT was frightening). But then he noticed that it wasn't the creepy Russian but a friendly looking man in a sweater the design of the Norwegian flag standing at his door.

The freakiest part, however, came after Matthias took a good look at the big man and was forced upon a shocking realization that from the stubbles and curly hair of shocking blond to the gentle but puzzled smile and the huge raw fish on the other man's shoulder, everything screamed so obviously NORWAY! Which made the picture totally wrong because Norway should be cold and none-smiling and troll-happy and not...not this!

.

[SatW Norway's POV]

Norway was a bit confused because Denmark seemed quite taller than he remembered from yesterday, not to mention the sudden change of haircut. But Denmark was Denmark, right?

"Are you okay?" He asked, holding out a hand to help the Dane up.

"Um...thanks and yes, I'm fine." 'Denmark' answered uncertainly, dusting himself after he got up from where he'd fallen. "Are you...Norway?"

"Of course I am." Norway replied, now a bit worried that the other man had hit his head too hard. "Are you sure you're okay? You seemed a little confused."

"Really Norge, don't you feel something is seriously wrong?" 'Denmark' held up his hands in exhalation, like he's trying to grasp onto something that's not there. "We're dressing in silly flag costumes like it's the new trend! There's a cute guy in my house claiming to be both me and my sister! You're somehow taller than me and holding a fish! And you're actually _smiling_! I don't know what it is but something is seriously wrong with everybody today!"

A pause.

"Are you sure you're okay, Denmark?"

.

.

Universe: Hetalia

[SatW Denmark's POV]

Denmark shot up from the couch–dizzy and drenched in cold sweat from a nightmare filled with wild moose–swearing to never fell asleep on somewhere so uncomfortable ever again, when he caught a scent of weed coming from the person who was sitting worryingly on the next chair. Without a second thought, Denmark launched onto the other man with a desperate cry of "Netherlands!" before he started sobbing about the terrible nightmare he had and of how awful Sweden was to steal his clothes and scare him with the stupid animal.

But then he realized something was wrong. Because the buttoned-up leather jacket and the darker undershirt and the twin-colored scarf were definitely NOT the familiar tricolor flag-shirt he remembered the Netherlands always wore. And when he did look up, Denmark felt his face turn into three different kinds of pale.

The not-Netherlands had a lighter brown hair than the one he knew, taller, had a small scar on his forehead that made him look a bit unfriendly, was smoking from a long delicate pipe, and worse of all...there was a _bunny_ napping on his lap.

Denmark almost shrieked when he leaped back, heart in his throat.

"Who are you and why are you in my house?"

"Hey, come down." The not-Netherlands held up his hands in a friendly gesture to show that he meant no harm. "I'm Lars van Rijn and you seemed to already know that I'm the Netherlands...?"

"No way!" Denmark retorted, keeping a cautious eye on the horrid furry animal. "No matter how much you feel like the Netherlands, you're not him. 'Cause you don't look like him at all; and you don't dress like him either."

"Hmm." The unsmiling not-Netherlands murmured under his breath. "You feel like Denmark as well, but you sure don't look like Matthias."

"So I must be dreaming!"

It's the only conclusion Denmark could come up with, so he tried pinching himself really hard on the arm. It didn't work.

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrgghhhhh!"

The Dane suddenly shouted in frustration and despair, earning a fierce 'Calm down!' from the other man.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? What's wrong with everything today? And why is there a dead moose in my house? And–"

"Seriously. Calm down so we can start figuring things out."

Denmark fell silent, this frowning not-Netherlands was kind of scaring him too.

.

[Hetalia Netherlands' POV]

Lars was regretting more and more for getting on that plane from Schiphol. "I'll ask you some simple questions and you just try your best to answer them."

"Okay."

"So, who are you?"

"Denmark."

"Do you have a human name I can refer you as?"

"No."

"Can you tell me what happened to you this morning?"

"I woke up to find these–" The Dane lightly pulled the front of his black sweater in indication. "–in my wardrobe. These are not my clothes. So I thought it was some sort of prank Sweden played on me. Then–"

"Wait a minute." Lars interrupted. "Why Sweden?"

"Because he's the only one who would!" The Dane immediately stated. "Especially for getting back at me 'cause I crashed his last dinner party."

Lars frowned at that, stroking his pet rabbit while he thought the things over, causing the shorter man to shudder involuntarily. "It doesn't seem like something the Sweden I know would do though." He murmured, "but again, I don't really know him that well..." He then added thoughtfully to himself before directing the next question, "So are you the one who sent a text message to me earlier?"

"I sent it to the Netherlands."

The Dutchman nodded. "That would be me." He said. "Why choose 'the Netherlands' though? Why not another Nordic country, like Finland?"

Surprisingly, the Dane seemed alarmed by the mere suggestion. "Jeez, maybe because 'the Netherlands' is my friend and Finland is a knife-wielding mute?"

And suddenly, Lars felt something clicked in his head...and he expressed it by doing a facepalm. "Well, it sounds more and more like you're from some sort of parallel universe (and it wasn't even Christmas*)."

"What does that mean?"

"Never mind, but I think you're stuck here for the time being."

"Stuck here?"

"Yeah." Lars answered standing up and placing his now-awake bunny on his shoulder (and a bit wary that the other man might suddenly start tearing at his clothes). "Just stay put for now and I'll help you notify the others, okay?"

"Okay." Parallel-Denmark echoed, eyes never leaving him as he did the shoelace of his boots. "Where are you going?"

"Leaving."

"Why?"

Because it was really none of my business. Lars was about to reply, but that's when he saw how Parallel-Denmark widened his big blue eyes at him with tears threatening to fall out and all so suddenly, the Dutchman noticed how impossibly _younger_ the other man seemed to be and he felt his heart skip*.

A sigh.

"Come with me then." Lars finally said, taking out his cell phone. "You need someone to help explain your situation anyway."

"Are you going to take me to King Europe?"

Lars, a finger about to press the speed-dial, blinked in genuine puzzlement (though his facial expression didn't so much as change). "Who is that?"

Parallel-Denmark was alarmed again.

"You don't know? King Europe, the leader of the European Union?"

Slowly, the Dutchman shook his head. "European Union is more like an, um, an alliance." He tried to explain. "We've never elected (nor would we agree to) an individual as our common leader."

"But that is just weird!" The zealous young man voiced, rummaging through the shoe cabinet for a pair of outdoor sneakers. "Where are we going then?"

"Berlin, Germany." Lars answered in his monotone, listening to the soft ringtone and waiting patiently for it to connect. "I think a G8 meeting is currently been held there."

Somehow, it perked the other's interest. "Great! The more the merrier! And maybe we could play that prank on Germany and Sister Japan* again. Should be fun, huh?"

Lars sighed, neither knowing what prank the other was talking about nor who Sister Japan was, just as the phone was answered.

"Germany? This is the Netherlands and..."

.

.

* * *

><p><em>* Hetalia Bloodbath 2010<em>

_* Seriously, SatW!Denmark looks like a kid even though he most certainly isn't one and he acts like a kid even by SatW/Hetalia standards. And yes, the Hetalia!Netherlands is an ephebophile. (Nations from SatW and nations from Hetalia are very different kind of perverts.)_

_* This prank (remove the spaces). http:/ / satwcomic. com/ more-difficult-love_

_To reduce confusion, from now on Hetalia nations would be referred to as not-xxx on sections from SatW nations' POVs (ex. not-Netherlands); and SatW nations would be referred to as Parallel-xxx on sections from Hetalia nations' POVs (ex. Parallel-Denmark)._


	3. Afternoon

_Disclaimer: In no way do I own Scandinavia and the World or Hetalia-Axis Powers.  
><em>_Rating goes up because of some improper thoughts in this chapter and maybe some offensive material in the next._

_Human names used (or mentioned) by Hetalia nations:_

_Matthias Køhler (non-canon)– Denmark  
><em>Lukas Bondevik (non-canon)– Norway<br>Ivan Braginski– Russia__

_._

_Special thanks to **PurpleLeopard** for providing the names of the two Nordics._

* * *

><p><strong>I'm Denmark! Just Not from Around Here<strong>

.

Universe: Scandinavia and the World

[Hetalia Denmark's POV]

"So you're saying you're Denmark, but not _the_ Denmark?"

The cute dude that was not-so-apparent a Danish woman asked skeptically while the fish holding Norwegian stared between the two in much confusion.

"I _am_ the Denmark!" Matthias said heatedly from the couch where he lounged, gazing at the two who sat side-by-side on the opposite love seat. The hangover from last night seemed to come back in full force, making his head ache.

He remembered–barely though–Finland telling him something above-average-weird happened last Christmas, something about parallel universes and catlike people and such, explaining to him why they had freaked out when he showed up (bare-chested and in cat ears) at the party*. An event he, sadly, missed. He also remembered later in his half-drunken state wishing to pay a visit to the parallel universe if only for a chance to see the (naked) feline Norway*...which then earned himself a punch from the said Norwegian after he voiced his wish.

Thinking about this leaded to Matthias letting his eyes fell on the worried fish-holding, Ivan-sized blond man across from him.

In a manner of speaking...that man could be qualified as Parallel-Norway too, right? Matthias thought, imaging a naked Lukas and those emotionless eyes that seemed for once sparkle with mischief...and fluffy cat ears the matching color of his pale blond hair just visible under the hat he always wore and twitching at the smallest sound, with a tail swaying between his slender legs while slowly crawling toward him and _purring_...

"...are obviously not?" Parallel-girl Denmark asked, frowned, then snapped her fingers to catch the attention of the fellow Dane. "Are you even listening to me? The way you're looking at Norway is all obscene, it's creeping me out!"

"Huh?" Matthias spluttered, shaking his head to clear the (very pleasing) image. "What were you saying again?"

"She's saying you couldn't be _the_ Denmark because you're obviously not." Parallel-Norway repeated the deep concern in his eyes still present.

"Well, I have a theory." Matthias answered, eyes drifting to the tall Norwegian (again) and tried to prevent his face from blushing a deep red. Now he's imaging stroking feline Norway behind the ears and down his back. "I can be the Denmark if I'm not the one from here, but a different universe." He said, and under his breath he added to himself, "Beware what you wish for because it just might come true."

"Do you think it's really possible?"

Parallel-girl Denmark nodded before waving her hand dramatically in front of the other Dane. "Hey, hey!" She snapped. "You're doing it again! Focus!"

"Doing what?"

"That!"

"What?"

"The way you're looking at Norway!" Parallel-girl Denmark exclaimed. "Your face is all lewd and I swear you're almost drooling!"

"I am not!"

"Am so!"

Of to the side, Parallel-Norway stuck the fish into his mouth and enjoyed the show.

.

[SatW Sweden's POV]

Sweden almost groaned when he heard the loud shouting match coming from behind the door. He seriously didn't want to be here especially if Denmark was in one of those moods again, but Norway had insisted it was serious.

He signed. Since he's already here, might as well get it over with.

"What is it Norway? Denmark having another one of his anxiety attack?" Sweden asked impatiently, swinging open the unlocked door.

At the noise he made, everyone in the room turned to his direction. And the Swede had to blink once, looked, took off his glasses to polish it before putting it back on and looked again, to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Because the tall Danish man sitting there was certainly NOT Denmark.

"What the hell?"

It was then that the not-Denmark suddenly burst out laughing. "You are Sweden? No fucking way!"

"What!" Sweden demanded, a bit flustered when the Dane decided to stand and walk to him, but only to be jabbed–none too gently–on the shoulder.

"You're shorter than me." Not-Denmark laughed in an insufferable booming voice that's already getting on his nerves, large hands now grasped onto the shorter-built Swede's forearms. "And I've never thought it's possible but you're Sweden and you're actually kind of cute! Man, I love this world!"

"W-what?"

.

.

* * *

><p><em>* Hetalia Bloodbath 2010, near the end.<em>

_* As I stated in the previous chapter, nations from SatW and nations from Hetalia are very different kind of perverts. Sadly I think I'm making the latter a lot worse, so I think I'll just say it's the downside of having a fandom too big and blame it on other fanfic writters for coming up with ideas that made me think this way? Just kidding._

_Sorry for the shortness of this chapter and the lack of event in the other universe, but I'm afraid the next chapter is getting too long for my liking. That's why I cut it in half and decided to post the first part a bit earlier than originally intended, the second part will be finished as soon as possible._


	4. Evening

_Disclaimer: In no way do I own Scandinavia and the World or Hetalia-Axis Powers.  
>Contained some offensive material (mentioned of Nazi?).<em>

_Human names used (or mentioned) by Hetalia nations:_

_Matthias Køhler (non-canon)– Denmark  
><em>_Ludwig– Germany_

* * *

><p><strong>I'm Denmark! Just Not from Around Here<strong>

.

Universe: Hetalia

[SatW Denmark's POV]

They arrived in Berlin a little past four. Denmark–using the passport of one Matthias Køhler–pointedly ignored his traveling companion not-Netherlands' embarrassed look throughout the trip because the Dane had insisted on plastering a large Danish flag he found at 'home' onto the front of his chest.

A familiar but frustrated-looking Germanic male with slick back light-blond hair soon walked up to them just outside Berlin Schönefeld airport and Denmark immediately recognized who he was.

"Hej, Austria*!" Denmark greeted. Somehow earning himself a bemused cough from his Dutch friend and a confused look from the younger Germanic man.

Denmark was puzzled by the reactions he received. "What?" He demanded, not knowing where he done wrong.

The taller man scratched the back of his neck, seemed a bit speechless. "I'm Germany actually." Not-Austria finally decided the best answer, gesturing for them to follow as he leaded them to an automobile. "Nice to meet you, Denmark. But do call me Ludwig in public."

"Ah...hum."

This human-name system was really confusing.

"So...are you going to take us to meet the others?" Denmark asked hopefully after they all got into the car with not-Austria at the wheel.

"Well, that was my original intention. But..."

"Something happened?" The not-Netherlands asked, already taking out his pipe but was instantly met with a disapproving clear-blue-eyed glare from the rearview mirror.

"The meeting was a disaster when I left, I dare not provoke them further with the existence of another parallel nation." Not-Austria elaborated, steering the car down another road. "So I think it best to drop you off at my place first and wait for things to calm down."

The not-Netherlands nodded at first, but something seemed to cross his mind. "But aren't your elder brothers* at your place?"

"Nein. Saxony and Bavaria are never at my place, and Prussia went to Austria's this morning."

Weren't Saxony and Bavaria two of Germany's federal states? How come they were the _elder_ brothers then? Wouldn't it make more sense the other way around or rather, father-son relationship like how it should*? Denmark was once again confused by the strange way this place work but this time, however, he wisely chose not to comment.

Nothing much happened except the not-Netherlands' rabbit scared Denmark again when it hopped out of the taller man's bag until not-Austria dropped them off in front of a whitewashed two-stories building. "I'll be back by eight and I'll make sure I have England with me." The not-Austrian-but-German told them as he handed over the key to his house. "Make yourself at home, then."

"We will."

"I know this place!" Denmark exclaimed after the not-Netherlands followed him up the porch stairs. "This place is Germany's house in my world!"

"Interesting." The not-Netherlands answered in a not-very-interested voice, smoking again as he opened the front door.

Just then, voices were heard coming from the drawing room causing them both to look at each other uncertainly. Didn't not-Austria assure them this house was empty? And, without waiting for the other, Denmark walked briskly down the short hallway into the lounging area at the back and found two men there.

One of them was obvious not-Germany (Denmark ignored the small rational voice in his head that told him not-Germany was actually the not-Austria who left just now so it wasn't possible for the man to be not-Germany but actually a not-'somebody else' and this was getting all too confusing so he's still going to call him not-Germany anyways!) though with a shorter and lighter shade of brunet hair. The other man who stood rather close to that man was also of the Germanic line, however...

He had neatly combed dark hair, wore a pair of spectacles that seemed to gleam in the right light, hiding a slight frown. And in his hand held a long threatening baton.

There's only one person in the world that fitted into this description and that meant not-Germany's in danger!

So without a second thought Denmark burst into the room, running and snarling as he did so, shocking the two other occupants.

"Stay away from Germany, you Nazi!" He bawled, grabbing not-Germany by the arm to pull him behind his back.

"W-what?" Not-Nazi Germany chocked on his words looking a bit stunned, but it must all be an act because Denmark knew how dangerous the Nazi was from personal experience.

"You've already lost the war so stop bullying Germany already!" Denmark stated, completely ignoring the other man's flustered "What in the _world_ are you talking about!" before turning to the not-exactly-cringing-but-equally-confused German behind him.

"Don't worry, Germany! I'll protect you from Nazi Germany!" Denmark assured, patting the man softly completely mistaking the bewilderment for fear. "I won't let him harm you!"

That snapped not-Germany out of his reverie because the next moment, Denmark felt a hand on his shoulder and–oh-sweet-Odin-when-did-Germany-get-so-strong?–as the Dane looked up, he met a pair of not amused grayish eyes.

"Just who are you calling Germany?" The brown haired German asked glaring all the while, but he was almost immediately cut off by the bespectacled male beside him.

"Who do you thought of me as, you impudent fool?" Not-Nazi Germany hissed frowning at the unwelcome Dane, resentment obvious in his tone and also glaring was a pair of equally unamused blue-violet eyes.

"Well I..."

"I may no longer have the social status of a country, but I will not stoop so low as to share that common name with my _little_ brother!"

"Gott im Himmel! I haven't felt so insulted since The First Silesian War!"

"I'm telling you I'm a Free State! Unlike a certain Prussian who's got nothing left–"

"STOP GUYS!" The not-Netherlands suddenly shouted, pulling the three people apart, saving the lost Dane from the ridiculous situation he found himself in. "Bavaria, Austria. _Please_ calm down."

"That imbecile just _incriminated_ me of being–"

"Please, Austria. He doesn't know what he's saying." The Dutchman reasoned, trying to salvage the damage done.

The said Dane shrank to the side, not wanting to be caught in the warzone again. But suddenly someone burst into the room from the hallway (again) and Denmark saw, almost like the work of miracle to summon the savior, the familiar blond hair Germanic with vivid red eyes glowing–weren't his eyes supposed to be blue?–and a big smile (smirk) one his face*.

"Hey Specs! Did West come home early–?"

Denmark ducked behind the Austrian(?) exclaiming in delight, "I'm so glad to see you again, Austria!"

And almost instantly, the wide smirk went rigid on the taller Germanic man's pale face and–if the Dane were not so dense–he could probably see veins threatening to burst upon the red-eyed not-Austria's forehead. Next second, Denmark found himself being forcefully gripped by the collar, face mere inches away from the other's.

"Who is this that dares mistake the awesome me for that prissy aristocrat?"

.

[Hetalia Germany's POV]

Ludwig was trying to pry France and England off each other while futilely telling America to drop his annoying laughter and ignoring the constant "Germany~ Germany~ Ve~~" that sounded in the background when his cell rang the second time that day.

It was a short message from the Netherlands.

_Please return home ASAP. Prussia, Bavaria and Austria are on the verge of killing our 'special guest'. –the Netherlands._

Ludwig really hated his life.

.

.

* * *

><p><em>* Denmark could only recognize those who were closer to him in his universe at a glance (namely the Nordics and the Netherlands); others he could only make out the general nationality (Germanics, Asians etc). As for why he would mistake Germany for Austria? Because Hetalia!Germany resembled SatW!Austria the most of course!<em>

_* Germany had three elder brothers: Saxony, Bavaria, Prussia (the former two are not OCs)._

_* The nations of SatW seemed to be able to give birth (however impossible) to states, cities and micro nations. The nations of Hetalia could not (but debatable)._

_* Selective world views, nations from SatW sometimes suffer from this kind of problem– http: / / satwcomic. com/ world-view_  
><em>For Hetalia fans, no points for guessing who this actually was; for SatW fans, this is the infamous Hetalia!Prussia. And since SatW!Prussia no longer existed in their universe, SatW!Denmark would see Hetalia!Prussia and Hetalia!Germany as the same person (thus mistaking them both as Austria).<em>

_._

_To help you understand the confusion in this chapter if you are only familiar with one of the two fandoms..._

_Hetalia!Germany [there are too many pictures of him so I won't bother with putting a link here]_  
><em>SatW!Austria (last two panels)– http:  / satwcomic. com/ how-to-keep-friends_

_Hetalia!Austria [as Denmark saw it]– http: / / browse. deviantart. com/ ?qh =§ion=&q=austria+hetalia+rape+face#/d30kbyp_  
><em>SatW!Nazi Germany– http:  / satwcomic. com/ pretty-swastika_

_Hetalia!Bavaria (fanart, first panel)– http: / / petey-winter. deviantart. com/ gallery/#/d37pn53_  
><em>SatW!Germany– http:  / satwcomic. com/ cute-puppy_

__I know the nations mentioned above didn't look exactly like each other and I assure you SatW!Denmark wasn't so dim as to thought they look the same, he just assumed the nations of this unfamiliar world should share at least **some** trait with their counterparts. That and he's also trying to find something familiar to grasp onto.  
><em>__Thus, SatW!Denmark would from now on be referring to both Hetalia!Germany and Hetalia!Prussia as not-Austria(s), Hetalia!Austria as not-Nazi Germany, and Hetalia!Bavaria as not-Germany on sections told from his POV. Insane, no?  
><em>_And finally, I introduced the very minor Hetalia!Bavaria into this story is because of the four German siblings, he's the one who resembled SatW!Germany the most._


	5. Dusk

_Disclaimer: In no way do I own Scandinavia and the World or Hetalia-Axis Powers.  
>Genre change to <strong>HumorHurt/Comfort**, though the Hurt/Comfort part won't be appearing in this chapter.  
><em>

_Human names used (or mentioned) by Hetalia nations:_

_Matthias Køhler (non-canon)– Denmark  
><em><em>Berwald Oxenstjärna– Sweden<em>___  
>Arthur Kirkland– the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, England<br>Ludwig– Germany  
>Roderich Edelstein– Austria<em>

_._

_Finally, a special thanks to **fujikawaii10346** for being my beta! I can't begin to describe just how grateful I am!_

* * *

><p><strong>I'm Denmark! Just Not from Around Here<strong>

.

Universe: Scandinavia and the World

[Hetalia Denmark's POV]

The sun was setting in the Scandinavian lands, and after Parallel-girl Denmark left for wherever (she had said she was going to find Norway, which apparently wasn't the smiling one that was already here), the remaining males went sauntering and chatting into the kitchen to make some much-needed dinner.

Off to the side, Parallel-Norway was scaling the fish he bought and Parallel-Sweden was making his weird inside-out sandwich-cake, smörgåstårta. It was good to know that the nations from here weren't immune to hunger either, Matthias thought as he prepare veal for making frikadeller.

It wasn't until Parallel-Norway started boiling potatoes did Matthias feel eyes on him–and when he turned, he saw Parallel-Sweden staring _right at him._

"Why are you staring at me?" Matthias immediately asked, making the Swede choke and splutter.

"I am _not_ staring!"

"But you sure are looking at me," Matthias smirked. "I know I'm good looking and all but I didn't realize you're into this kind of thing."

"W-What!"

Matthias' smirk grew wider. Could it be? It wouldn't harm for a little teasing.

The Dane put down his cooking device and timed the moment _just right_ so that when the shorter man looked away, Denmark grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him suddenly so Matthias could lean down (still needed some getting use to, what with Sweden for once being the smaller) to give him a kiss on the cheek.

That resulted in the next ten minutes of Parallel-Sweden's–flustered and humiliated–staring, Parallel-Norway amused and hiding a smile behind his hands...and Matthias blatantly laughing his ass off.

"What did you do that for!"

"Admit it, you enjoy it."

"I am _not_ gay!"

"I never said you were."

"You–" Parallel-Sweden fumed, narrowing his eyes and seemed to stare harder.

That's when it hit. It was so funny...no–hilarious, that Matthias was immediately struck with a renew wave of laughter. But this time though, he knew how impolite it was since the other was–now that he saw it–so obviously _trying_.

Sadly, the Dane ultimately failed in suppressing his laughter.

"Can you shut up?"

"No seriously," Matthias asked after he managed to catch his breath, "were you actually trying to _glare_ at me all along?" (He was just too used to having a Swede with a permanent death glare on his face that he didn't even consider this Parallel-counterpart's glare a real one.)

Now, Parallel-Sweden was pulling a stare that was closer to Berwald's usual look. But before Matthias could make any more comment on it, a plate of the Swedish inside-out sandwich-cakes met his face.

Soon it escalated into a full-blown food fight with singed meatball and half-cooked fish flying. But hey! Everyone was laughing and nobody seemed to mind eating off the counter...and each other.

Add in fresh beer and everything seemed to be perfect.

.

.

Universe: Hetalia

[SatW Denmark's POV]

A loud CLANG sounded when a plate of schweinebraten was set before him, and Denmark cringed from the glare not-Nazi Germany was directing at him.

There's no doubt that the German(ic) man was still irate under his composed façade, especially making it very clear after kicking everyone out and start waging a loud war in the kitchen. It was a wonder he managed to make any dish at all–even more so since said dish seemed to almost be able to rival French cuisines.

"Um...thanks."

A soft murmur of gratitude, but the Dane was practically ignored.

And nobody said a word after that with the only noise being the not-Austria with a hostile air smashing his boiled potato into mush and the occasional slurping of beer as both not-Germany and not-Austria being dead-set on becoming drunk.

To Denmark, the tension was suffocating.

It wasn't until near the end of the dinner did they hear the sound of the front door opening and the tipsy not-Austria immediately went to greet his supposed brother (knocking his own chair over along the way and earning himself a disproving glare from the dark-haired patrician).

Not-Germany was now leaning onto not-Nazi Germany in his intoxicated state, arms slung over his shoulders, faced flushed and breathing deep into the other man's neck. Denmark couldn't help but wince at the sight because (not-)Germany and (not-)Nazi Germany getting along meant BAD THINGS. And though he _did _try telling himself they weren't who he think they were, he couldn't get his internal alarm to stop ringing.

The not-Netherlands was taking out his pipe when the trio (one drunken, two sober) made it into the dining room.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland." The new blond (with unsettlingly bushy eyebrows) introduced upon seeing the unfamiliar face, holding out a hand. "Or you can simply call me England."

"Denmark." Denmark answered, shaking the offered hand as not-England (so much younger than expected it felt surreal!) took the only remaining seat beside him–which previously belonged to not-Austria.

"Germany has informed me of your current situation on my way here–"

"Oi princess, you making a show of gentleman to our guest?"

Not-Austria cackled, garnet eyes gleaming in a mischievously dangerous way as he leaned over the table.

"_Bruder_." The sober not-Austria frowned warningly ("Bloody git." Not-England murmured under his breath), before turning to face the rest of the table. "Why are you all here anyway?"

"I came to deposit this pathetic excuse you call brother." Not-Nazi Germany answered with dignity, glaring at the standing red-eyed not-Austria with a hint of disdain. "I can only bear this dullard for so long, Ludwig."

"Keep telling yourself that, priss." Not-Austria returned with a mocking glare.

"Roderich's here so why shouldn't I be?" Not-Germany said, draining another bottle of beer. "Better than that _Saupreißen_."

"_Pfft_, you're just jealous of how awesome I am."

The blue-eyed not-Austria faceplamed, "That's enough!" He shouted raising his voice slightly while rubbing his brows. "I'm sure the Netherlands has already told you the current problem our guest brings us, and I'm planning on solving it as soon should more problems arise."

Denmark gulped when he felt all eyes fall on him.

"I don't think it's much of a problem..." The albino snickered, fingering a sharp utensil on the table. "You can't miss someone you don't know."

"Gentle as always." Not-Nazi Germany huffed, voice dripping with sarcasm and making Denmark shudder.

"I could try sending him back by opening a gateway to wherever he's from," the too-young Brit said after a thought. "The only bloody problem would be how in hell do we open a gateway on the other side?"

Another long silence that was accompanied by suffocating tension...

Until it was broken by a soft cough from Denmark (who was fidgeting uneasily in his chair).

"Um...I don't think that would be a problem."

Not-England shot him a suspicious look. "What?"

"Well, there're always weird things coming out of Hekla near Iceland." Denmark answered with a bit uncertainty. "It _is_ the gateway to Hell (as far as I know)."

.

.

* * *

><p><em>* Smörgåstårta– http :  / www . acatinthekitchen . com / ?p=317_

_* Frikadeller– http : / / www . rotary-yep . net / Default . aspx?tabid=363_

_* Schweinebraten– http : / / farm6 . static . flickr . com / 5190 / 5566834552_4b373483b3 . jpg_

_Translation:_  
><em>[German] Saupreißen = pig-Prussian, an offensive Bavarian term for Germans living north of the Main River (regardless of actual Prussian heritage).<em>

.

_Character Key_

_Not-Nazi Germany: Hetalia!Austria_

_Blue-eyed not-Austria: Hetalia!Germany_

_Red-eyed not-Austria: Hetalia!Prussia_

_Not-Germany: Hetalia!Bavaria_

_The not-Netherlands: the Hetalia!Netherlands_

_Not-England: Hetalia!England_


End file.
